


buried in broken dreams

by annella



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Holding Hands, Intercrural Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annella/pseuds/annella
Summary: Rufus knows what Tseng gets like when his father forces him to dance with eligible women at parties. Sometimes, Rufus does it on purpose.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	buried in broken dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This started as ‘what if they held hands’ and turned into *broad gesture* this.

“There are several eligible women I expect you to dance with tonight,” the President said in a low voice as he and Rufus stood in the elevator, waiting to arrive at the ballroom.

Rufus gritted his teeth. “Am I to be provided with a list, and check each one off as I dance with them?”

“Precisely. I will be monitoring you.”

“Father, I really don’t think—”

“I _do_ think.” The elevator opened, and Rufus took a deep breath as the music and lights poured in. Rufus’ father turned to him, his face set in a stern glare. “You will find the list on your PHS; don’t disappoint me. You’re almost thirty, it is past time for you to marry.” He strode off towards Scarlet and Heidegger, and Rufus sighed. It was going to be a fun evening.

  
  
“I’m going to jump off the helipad,” Rufus murmured, leaning against the wall next to Tseng. 

“That bad?” Tseng said under his breath, barely audible over the sound of the jazz band not far away.

“I’ve danced with four different women so far.”

“I’m aware.”

Rufus glanced at Tseng, noticing the tense set of his mouth. “One of them was quite lovely,” he said casually, folding his arms and tilting his head.

Tseng didn’t reply, but Rufus noticed a tiny twitch of an eyebrow, just enough to show that Tseng was irritated by Rufus’ observation.

“Perhaps you can marry her and produce those Shinra heirs your father is so intent upon.” Tseng’s voice was low and measured, betraying no hint of frustration.

Rufus sighed, wondering why his bitterness over his situation made him poke at Tseng like this. “You know I hate this as much as you do,” he said through gritted teeth.

Tseng took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m aware of that as well,” he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. He shifted infinitesimally closer to Rufus, so their shoulders were brushing. Tseng's hair, curling slightly at the ends from the damp heat of the ballroom, was falling loosely around his shoulders and Rufus wanted very much to tangle his fingers in it and inhale its scent. 

“One day,” Rufus said, looking back out at the crowd, “I will dance with you out there.” He likely only had a few minutes before someone came to find him for the next dance, and he casually let his hands fall to his sides.

The fabric of Tseng’s suit was smooth under Rufus’ fingertips as he idly touched the hem of his jacket. Tseng shifted his weight, his clasped hands relaxing and the edge of one just lightly brushing up Rufus’ fingers. He wasn’t wearing his gloves tonight; for once not on duty, and the heat of his hand was like a firebrand.

The music faded to a faint buzz in the background, and Rufus was certain everyone nearby would be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest as he curled his fingers around Tseng’s, hidden from view by their clothing. Any observers would simply see the Vice President having a talk with the Director of the Turks and think nothing of it.

They wouldn’t be able to see their hands slotting together, fingers intertwined, Tseng’s thumb between their hands, stroking small circles on Rufus’ palm.

They might notice a slight flush on Rufus’ face, his cheekbones dusted with pink as he stared intently at the opposite wall of the ballroom. It would no doubt be attributed to the champagne, and not to the warmth of Tseng’s hand clasped tightly in his.

Their conversation tapered off, each of them entirely focused on their joined hands. Tseng slid a finger up Rufus’ wrist, stroking the thin, delicate skin, and Rufus struggled not to draw in a sharp breath. He traced his fingers over the back of Tseng’s hand, over the sharp bone of his knuckles, and heard the slightest indrawn hitch of breath from Tseng.

All he could think about was getting Tseng alone, pressing him against a wall and pushing their bodies together. He’d take Tseng’s hand and slide a finger into his mouth, let his teeth scrape down the length as he sucked it, swirling his tongue over the tip as Tseng stared at him with dark, intense eyes. He would—

“May I have the next dance?” A young woman appeared in front of him, and Rufus delicately detached his hand from Tseng’s, tilting his head and looking at her. She was pretty, tall, her ballgown filled out by her curves, and her eyes had a challenging look in them.

Rufus did not sigh, although internally he was cursing up a storm. This was one of the women his father wanted him to dance with, the daughter of one of his richest shareholders, and on the cusp of inheriting her father’s company. She already ran most of it herself, if the rumours were anything to go by. A powerful ally, and someone Rufus’ father would very much like him to make nice with.

She was friendly enough, intelligent and witty, not simpering and giggly like one of the other women he’d danced with that evening, but his eyes kept straying over to Tseng in the far corner. His Turk was now talking with Director Tuesti, a glass of wine held idly in one hand, those long fingers curled around the stem as Tseng talked to Reeve. Every so often he would glance up at Rufus, their eyes meeting across the crowded ballroom, and Rufus felt a stir in his groin every time. Tseng was beautiful tonight, his hair a shining, smooth fall down his back, his slim-fitting suit hugging him around the waist and down over his hips. He’d chosen to wear one which Rufus had gifted him some months ago—bespoke, made of a rich black fabric with a subtle pattern in it. It fit him so much better than his work uniform, and Rufus loved to see him in it. He couldn’t wait to see him out of it.

“It’s alright,” the young woman—Jovinia? Joniva? Rufus suddenly couldn’t remember—said quietly, only audible to Rufus. “I don’t want to be here, either.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“My father wanted me to dance with you. But do you see her, over there?” Rufus spun and dipped her, looking in the direction she indicated and spotting another young woman, leaning against the far wall and watching them dance. Her face was set in an idle smile and she sipped her wine, her gaze fixed on Jovinia. 

“I see,” Rufus said softly. “We are both at the mercy of our fathers.”

“You’re a nice man, Rufus Shinra,” she said as they continued their dance. “I was expecting you to be a snobbish prig. I wish you all the best, and look forward to working with you one day. Perhaps we can even be friends.” The dance came to an end; Rufus delicately raised her hand to his mouth and placed a brief kiss on the back of it.

On his way back to rejoin Tseng, Rufus broke into a smile. She was the last woman he had been obliged to dance with, and he was looking forward to calling it a night and taking Tseng back to his apartment for the afterparty.

He found Tseng talking with Elena and Rude. Rude’s attention was only partly on Tseng, his gaze instead focused on the lithe form of Reno near the buffet table.

“Having a good evening, sir?” Elena asked. Her face was a little flushed, her eyes bright, and Rufus smiled at her. 

“I’ve had worse,” he replied, snagging a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and taking a large gulp. “I may retire shortly, though.”

“Early morning tomorrow?” Tseng asked, keeping up the act. “I know I won’t be staying late, either; I need to be on my way to Junon by sunrise.”

“I’m not sure whether my early morning meetings have been scheduled to punish me, or if someone has been particularly forgetful,” Rufus said. “But I believe this is where I bid you all goodnight.”

He nodded at Tseng as he left, swallowing the last of his champagne and heading towards the elevator. He thought he was going to make it, but as he waited for the elevator to arrive, his father stepped up beside him.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked. “I would have expected you to stay a bit longer. Enjoy yourself.”

Rufus sighed. “Is that an order? I danced with all the women you wanted me to. I feel like that’s enough of being paraded around for one night.”

“Hmph.” The President chewed on the end of his cigar, blowing out a puff of smoke. Rufus wrinkled his nose, stepping away from the acrid cloud. “I notice you’re leaving alone. Again.”

“Jovinia was nice,” Rufus said begrudgingly. “I wouldn’t object to seeing her again.” And perhaps she would be a useful ally; it was worth exploring.

“Good.” Rufus’ father stepped away without another word, leaving Rufus alone as the elevator arrived at the top floor. 

It was a relief to be alone, and Rufus leaned against the cool metal of the elevator wall, staring out at the lights of the city far below. That could have gone worse, he supposed, and he sighed, straightening his suit jacket as the elevator arrived at his floor.

The doors opened, and Tseng was waiting for him.

“Thank the gods,” Rufus murmured, stepping out of the elevator and directly into Tseng’s space. He cupped his Turk’s face, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin, and pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Rufus—” Tseng began, but Rufus shut him up by covering his mouth with his own, sliding their lips together as he slipped his hands around Tseng’s slim waist. It was dangerous, out in the open like this, but this late at night, the only people around were in the ballroom several levels above.

Rufus pulled away slowly, a strand of saliva connecting his mouth to Tseng’s. He could taste the wine on Tseng’s breath, could hear his rapid breathing, and he lifted a thumb to wipe his lower lip. Tseng didn’t say a word; his eyes were almost black, the flush on his face from the wine now more pronounced, and they stared at each other for a heartbeat before turning and striding towards the privacy of Rufus’ apartment.

His head was buzzing as he unlocked the door of his suite, Tseng crowding behind him, his mouth on Rufus’ neck. He’d only been at the party for an hour or so, but had managed to drink a fair amount of champagne during that time, and his knees were starting to feel decidedly wobbly. 

The door finally slammed closed behind them, and Rufus pushed Tseng up against the wall in just the way he’d been imagining all evening. Tseng’s breath was driven out of him in a gasp, the noise swallowed by Rufus’ mouth landing on his. The kiss was messy, sloppy, both of them moaning, tongues tangled together. Tseng was being rougher than normal, biting down on Rufus’ bottom lip, tugging at him until he thought he might bleed. 

He always got like this when reminded of the President’s plans for Rufus. Possessive—his hands tight on Rufus’ waist, pulling him against him. Needy—soft whimpers escaping him as they kissed, reluctant to let Rufus’ mouth go even to take a breath. His Turk was jealous, and although part of him knew it was wrong, Rufus encouraged it. 

It reminded him that Tseng was _his._

“I hate seeing you dancing with all those women,” Tseng hissed, grabbing Rufus’ ass and shoving a thigh between his legs. Rufus moaned, rutting against Tseng, his cock firming up in his suit pants. “Their hands on you. Their bodies pressed against yours.” He tore himself away from Rufus’ mouth and kissed his neck, tracing a line down below his collar, where he sucked a bruise into Rufus’ pale skin. It was almost painful, a jolt searing through Rufus’ body as Tseng bit and sucked at him. He would have a line of bruises by the morning, purple and red marks trailing down his collarbone.

Tseng let out a grunt of frustration, letting go of Rufus’ ass and reaching up to tug at his clothing. Rufus let him, let Tseng roughly pull his tie off, pop open the buttons of his jacket and shove it down over his shoulders. He let Tseng tear at his shirt, grinning when buttons worth a thousand gil each flew off and landed in the darkened corners of the room. He let Tseng pick him up, his hands tight on Rufus’ ass, Rufus’ legs wrapping around his waist as he carried him the short distance to the bedroom.

Rufus choked out a laugh when he landed on his back on the bed, Tseng standing over him, his face dark in the dimly lit room. Shafts of light from the window sent stark lines of black shadow and white light across Tseng’s form, and Rufus pushed himself up on his elbows to watch as Tseng methodically unbuttoned his jacket, casting it aside and rolling his sleeves up. 

Even at a company party, he was armed, and Rufus felt a pulse of lust in his groin at the sight of Tseng’s black harness wrapped around his shoulders and across his chest. He raised his hands to unfasten it, and Rufus choked out, “No. Keep it on.”

A feral grin split Tseng’s face, and he leaned down to grab Rufus by the hips, pulling him down the bed so his legs dangled over the side. With smooth grace, Tseng fell to his knees beside the bed, nestled in between Rufus’ thighs, and he maintained eye contact as he slowly pulled his hair back from his face, tying it up in a messy high ponytail. 

Rufus ran the pad of his thumb across Tseng’s cheek, admiring the subtle eyeliner darkening his lids and emphasising the thick blackness of his lashes. Gods, but he loved having Tseng on his knees for him, that talented mouth on his cock, driving him to a peak. He kept his hands on Tseng’s face, feeling the warmth of his red-flushed cheeks seeping into his fingers as Tseng ran his fingertips down Rufus’ chest and towards his waistband.

The clink of his belt buckle slowly being undone was loud in the quiet room, and Rufus near bit clean through his lip when Tseng’s long, deft fingers slipped into his underwear and slid the fabric down over his cock.

 _“Tseng,”_ he breathed as Tseng lowered his head, taking the head of Rufus’ cock into his mouth and sucking gently. He would never tire of having Tseng’s mouth on him, that searing heat enveloping his cock, wet and messy and _incredible._ He cupped Tseng’s head, his hands sliding up the back of his skull and running through the spiky short hairs of his undercut.

Rufus had nearly lost his mind the first time he discovered Tseng’s undercut, normally concealed beneath the fall of his hair. He loved the fuzzy feel of it against his fingers, loved running his hands incessantly over it. Tseng enjoyed it too, and he let out a throaty moan, the sound vibrating against Rufus’ cock.

Tseng was intent on punishing Rufus for his flirtatious behaviour earlier, and he brought him to the brink, Rufus gasping and crying out _I’m coming!_ before Tseng pulled away and tightened his grip on the base of Rufus’ cock, stopping his orgasm in its tracks. 

“Fuck you!” Rufus cursed, his hips thrusting uselessly.

“You _know_ I don’t like when you do that,” Tseng murmured, his deep voice silky smooth. “Flirting with all those women, right in front of me.” He slid the tip of his tongue over the head of Rufus’ cock, collecting a bead of precome before pulling away again. Rufus moaned, his hips twitching.

“Not like I have a choice!” he spat. 

“Hmm.” Tseng licked him again, a wide swathe of his tongue running up the shaft and swirling over the head. Rufus grunted, a desperate moan forcing its way between his teeth. He was so close, _so close,_ and all he wanted was for Tseng to get his mouth back around him. “You don’t have to be so _blatant._ You know who you really belong to.” 

Rufus gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on Tseng’s head, digging his fingers into the short hairs at the base of his skull. He tilted Tseng’s head up, looking him dead in the eye. “It’s _you,_ it’s _always_ been you, it always _will_ be you! Now for the love of Bahamut, _get your mouth back on my cock.”_

“I don’t think so,” Tseng purred, pulling away and standing up. Rufus growled, reaching out to grab him and drag him back in, but he was distracted by Tseng calmly starting to shed his remaining clothes. The gun harness was carefully placed on the bedside table, and then his shirt and pants were tossed aside in a heap on the floor. Rufus watched, his gaze roaming all over Tseng’s lean, muscular body, from the dip of his clavicle down the scarred planes of his chest to the hard length of his cock, just begging for Rufus to touch it.

Tseng raised an eyebrow as he approached the bed again. “Are you going to take your pants off?” he asked idly, taking hold of his cock, stroking himself slowly as he stared at Rufus.

Gods, but Rufus loved when Tseng was like this. Jealousy, envy, possessiveness, none of these were particularly attractive traits, but when this was the result, Rufus didn’t even feel a little bit bad about taunting him earlier. A sly grin formed on his face as he shoved his pants off, before lying back on his elbows, watching Tseng approach.

“Jovinia was nice,” he said, and a flash of anger crossed Tseng’s face. “I might meet up with her again sometime soon.”

“You’ll do _no such thing,”_ Tseng snapped, kneeling on the bed and crawling towards Rufus. Rufus’ breathing quickened; his legs fell apart without a second thought as Tseng knelt between them, his face only inches from Rufus’ as he supported himself on his hands above him. “You’re _mine.”_

Rufus didn’t have a chance to reply; Tseng’s mouth was on his, his tongue pushing between Rufus’ lips, rough and messy and desperate. Rufus wrapped his arms and legs around Tseng’s body, pulling him close against him, and they both gasped as their cocks slid together,

“Going to fuck me?” Rufus gasped between kisses, scraping his nails up Tseng’s back, leaving scratches on his fair skin. Tseng shivered, mouthing at Rufus’ neck, sucking kisses into his skin, biting further down where the marks could be hidden. Rufus always liked to look in the mirror the next day at the bruises Tseng left, pressing lightly against them and feeling a small twinge of pain to remind him of what they’d done the previous night.

“Not tonight,” Tseng said firmly, shaking off Rufus’ hold and sitting back on his heels. “You don’t deserve it, after your antics.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Roll over. Onto your side.” Tseng watched as Rufus shifted around on the bed, before lying down behind him, his mouth immediately pressing against the back of Rufus’ neck. A gentle hand slid over his shoulder, caressing him, and Tseng shifted to murmur in his ear.

“You’re good?” Tseng kissed his earlobe, and Rufus nodded desperately. The hand on his shoulder tightened, fingernails digging in, and Rufus pressed his hips back against Tseng’s, feeling his hard cock slide up the crack of his ass.

“Please, I need,” Rufus gasped. He was so hard it hurt, and he wrapped a hand around his cock without even thinking about it. Tseng immediately knocked his hand away, replacing it with his own, and Rufus moaned, thrusting into the loose circle of Tseng’s fingers. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t _nearly_ enough, and he let out a frustrated grunt.

“I’ll get you there,” Tseng promised, his nose buried in the back of Rufus’ hair, his breath hot on Rufus’ neck. He let go of Rufus’ cock and reached over to rummage in the bedside table, retrieving the lube, and Rufus eagerly spread his legs, hoping that Tseng would relent and fuck him.

“Look at you, so eager for my cock,” Tseng murmured, his voice rough, and Rufus moaned. He heard the click of the tube, felt Tseng’s hand moving behind him as he slicked himself up, and then—

“Gods, _please,”_ Rufus begged as Tseng teased him, the head of his cock slipping between his thighs, sliding along his taint, nudging his balls. 

“I just want to _mess you up,”_ Tseng whispered, reaching around again to take hold of Rufus’ cock. His hand was slippery with lube, and Rufus cried out as he tightened his grip, giving Rufus a firm hold to thrust into.

The first time they’d had sex, all those years ago, Tseng had surprised Rufus with how loud he was. He’d been expecting the Turk to be reserved, quiet in bed, stifled moans and bitten back gasps. But Tseng was _noisy._ He moaned without reservation, cursed, cried out Rufus’ name when he came, and Rufus lapped it up. Even now, years later, he relished the sound of Tseng gasping in his ear, his breathing loud and harsh as he muttered filth about how good Rufus felt, how much he loved having his cock between his thighs, how filthy he was going to make him.

Rufus’ head was spinning, still a little dizzy from the champagne, but mostly from Tseng’s hand on him, his cock sliding back and forth between his thighs, his body pressed flush up against Rufus’ back. Arousal pulsed through him, making him forget everything besides Tseng, surrounding him, touching him, his chest heaving against Rufus’ back as he thrust his hips faster and harder. Rufus reached down under his balls, his fingers slipping over the head of Tseng’s cock as he pushed between his thighs, and Tseng let out a desperate moan.

“Tseng,” Rufus gasped, “I’m—I’m close.” He grunted as Tseng tightened his hand, stroking him faster, sinking his teeth into Rufus’ shoulder. The sharp pain sent Rufus over the edge, and his entire body tensed, his hand clenching tight in the blankets as he came, covering Tseng’s hand. Tseng moaned his name as he followed him into orgasm, and Rufus whimpered when he felt Tseng’s release covering his balls, his hand, the space between his thighs. 

“ _Oh,”_ Rufus sighed, relaxing against Tseng’s chest. “I needed that.” 

Tseng nuzzled him, his hand soft on Rufus’ hip. “Me too.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry I got a bit… angry.”

Rufus laughed quietly. “I may have goaded you somewhat.”

Tseng snorted and rolled away to grab a towel from the bedside table. He mouthed at Rufus’ shoulder, soothing the bite marks as he gently wiped them both clean. Rufus was languid, floppy in Tseng’s grasp, and once he was done, Rufus turned to face him.

“I _am_ yours, you know,” he said quietly, gazing into Tseng’s deep brown eyes so close to his own. 

“I know.” Tseng kissed him, a press of lips together. “And you’re right; you should meet up with Jovinia again. She would be a useful ally.”

“Done your background research on her already?” Rufus asked drowsily, tucking his head into Tseng’s shoulder. 

“Mmm. I noticed you noticing her girlfriend. You both have something to hide.”

Rufus pushed himself up on an elbow, looking down at Tseng. His Turk was beautiful in his post-orgasmic haze, his hair mussed, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Will it anger you to see me out with her?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, _very_ much,” Tseng assured him, and pulled him down for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sherribon on twitter.
> 
> Please also check out this delightful art by seno of Tseng with an undercut. 
> 
> https://twitter.com/seno_FF/status/1352123357991342080?s=19


End file.
